


I’m Always Tired, But Never of You

by peacock_francophile



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Chekov angst, M/M, kind of, lots of blood sorry, poor bones overworks himself and Spock knows it, shameless fluff, shameless spones, so Sorry chekov, spones fluff, this was supposed to be about chekov but then Spones intruded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 14:38:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13483584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacock_francophile/pseuds/peacock_francophile
Summary: After Chekov is rushed to the medbay, badly wounded, resting is the last thing on Bones’ sleep-deprived mind. Fortunately, Spock is there for Bones.





	I’m Always Tired, But Never of You

**Author's Note:**

> So my title might be from “i hate u i love u” by gnash.   
> Deal with it.   
> Trigger warnings for a crap load of blood and too much fluff.   
> I imagine and describe the characters from the AU movies, but imagine who you want.   
> This was originally supposed to be Chekov-centric. I blame Bones for the Spones intrusion. He wouldn’t stop falling into Spock’s arms, dammit.

When Jim rushed into the medbay carrying an unconscious Chekov, Bones didn’t think the kid was going to make it. 

The Russian was as pale as a ghost and covered in blood, mostly from a deep gash running from his shoulder down to his ribs. Another cut was gouged along the side of his face, weeping blood that covered one of his eyes. Bruises were scattered across his visible skin, accompanied by various cuts and wounds. Chekov lay deathly still on the operating table Jim had laid him on. 

“Can you—?” Jim started anxiously, unable to finish his sentence. 

Bones didn’t reply, just set his mouth in a firm, determined line, and got to work. 

The _Enterprise_ __had stores of blood of all types, but before Bones could begin a transfusion, he had to stitch Chekov up. After cutting off the the Russian’s clothes, Bones set to work. It wasn’t long before his gloved hands were slick with crimson blood, making it difficult for him to keep a firm grip on the needle. Other surgeons worked around him, readying and preparing the blood transfusion, cleaning up the blood off Chekov’s body, making sure he stayed unconscious, making sure he didn’t slip into a coma, giving him assorted hyposprays.

Jim sat in a corner, despite being gently told to leave several times. His shoulders were hunched, his eyebrows creased sharply, his crystal blue eyes looking tired and worried and frightened. Spock came in quietly during the end of the first hour of operating, standing by Jim’s chair and watching the surgeons work. 

After what seemed like hours, Bones rolled off his gloves and threw them away, pushing a hypospray into Chekov’s neck before stepping back to take a look. 

A medical blanket covered Chekov’s bare body up to the neck, but the skin that was still showing had regained some color. His hair was a mess, but it was no longer plastered to his forehead with sweat. Bones was secretly relieved that they didn’t have to cut it; it would’ve felt like a crime to part Chekov from his golden-brown curls.

Jim had fallen asleep in the corner, his mouth slightly open and his head leaning against Spock’s side, who was still standing. Just seeing the sleeping captain made a wave of exhaustion wash over Bones, but he just rubbed his eyes and checked Chekov’s vitals. They were to starting to finally level out. 

“Doctor,” Spock broke the silence, making Bones jump slightly, “if you wish to rest, I will alert you if Ensign Chekov’s condition changes.”

”I’m fine,” Bones mumbled, then cleared his throat, shook his head, and repeated it, firmer and clearer this time. “I’m fine.”

Spock looked almost skeptical. “Doctor, I assure you, if you require sleep, I can—“

”I said I’m fine!” Bone snapped. He glanced at Chekov’s vitals again, more out of habit and concern than actual curiousity. Spock seemed to not believe him, but he remained silent. 

Hours later, Chekov came to for a few minutes. He was groggy and disoriented and drugged, but alive. Jim woke up as well and looked so relieved he could cry. He repeatedly apologized and asked if Chekov was alright and apologized some more. Chekov mostly seemed confused, but he smiled slightly, muttered something in Russian, and fell asleep again. 

“You never told me how this all happened,” Bones said curiously. 

“Let’s just say those negotiations with those aliens didn’t go quite as well as we had hoped,” Jim replied with a grimace. 

Jim had a ship to run, so he excused himself, leaving Spock and Bones (along with the occasional nurse) alone with the sleeping Russian. Bones was beyond tired, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave Chekov’s side. What if something went wrong? What if something happened to to the kid, and Bones was too busy sleeping to be there in time?

But although Bones refused to lay down, his body rebelled. It had been two days or so since he had slept; the medbay had been especially full recently. Bones had just been about to retire to his quarters when Chekov had been rushed in and instantly, Bones had been awake. Now, his eyes were shutting, his arms trembled, his knees buckled, and he was falling...

...straight into strong, warm arms. 

Spock held onto him, embracing Bones under his arms to prevent him from collapsing to the floor. Half of Bones just wanted to lean against Spock’s chest and let his eyes close and let sleep take over, but the other half of him, the half that still had dignity, made him straighten up and move away from Spock. 

“Sorry, I don’t recall asking you to sweep me off my feet,” Bones said dryly, but he could feel his cheeks warming slightly. 

“Doctor,” Spock said, almost gently, almost kindly, “your brain requires recalibration. Your body requires rest. For your health and welfare, I insist that you sleep.”

Bones ground his teeth, desperately wanting to spit a retort back. It was practically his instint to argue with Spock. Bones’ second nature was to fight with the Vulcan... but he was exhausted, and sleep was so tempting...

And yet, what if Chekov...?

”I can’t,” Bones muttered, shaking his head and making the world tilt around him. “Chekov could—“

”The ensign will be fine,” Spock said, sounding firmer now, “thanks to you.”

Bones clenched and unclenched his jaw, still undecided when Spock added, “Even if Chekov does fall into critical condition, you will be too tired to think clearly and therefor will be no use to help him, and may even endanger him further.”

“...Fine,” Bones ground out, but made no move to leave. 

Spock cocked an eyebrow, waiting. Bones shuffled his feet, before sighing and heading toward the medbay entrance. Spock followed him, making Bones frown. 

“I thought you were going to keep an eye on Chekov,” Bones said accusingly. 

“I will return after escorting you to your quarters,” Spock told him calmly. 

It was Bones turn to raise an eyebrow. “Escorting?”

”You seem unsteady on your feet simply standing,” Spock explained. “I expect that walking will be an even greater challenge for you.”

”I can walk to my quarters without your help,” Bones huffed, but he didn’t argue this time as Spock followed him. 

They had barely made it out of the medbay when the word started tilting again, and Bones’ legs grew shaky. He paused for a moment, reaching out to steady himself on a nearby wall, but found his hand colliding with Spock instead. He lost his balance and found himself falling into Spock’s arms again. 

Spock didn’t say anything, but instead just gathered Bones into his arms and continued the walk down the deserted hallway. 

“My, my, Spock, so eager to hold me tonight,” Bones teased sleepily, too tired to care about dignity. “You need only have asked.”

”I can hardly resist when you keep falling into my arms,” Spock quipped (and was it Bones’ imagination or was the Vulcan blushing slightly?)

Bones made a noncommittal noise and smiled wearily. 

He had almost fallen asleep in Spock’s arms when Spock laid him on a soft bed and, almost awkwardly, pulled the covers over the doctor. 

“You’ll wake me up if he—“

”Yes, Doctor.”

Bones was quiet for a moment, before saying softly, “Thank you.”

Spock hesitated, as thought he was about to speak, but then remained silent. 

“Well... ‘night, Spock,” Bones yawned. 

“Goodnight, Bones,” Spock said quietly, but the doctor was already asleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope u liked! It was just something I wrote when the plot bunnies attacked.   
> My tumblr is the-first-refrain and peacock-francophile.


End file.
